


When The Stars Align

by pensively



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Spock, Cultural Differences, First Time, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mind Meld, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensively/pseuds/pensively
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Syleese, the jewel of the Kalinae system, is rich in mineral resources and advanced technology of great interest to the Federation. Jim and his crew lead the diplomatic outreach to this isolated planet with their usual confidence and attention to detail. </p>
<p>Although the Syleesians are a devotedly peaceful people, the mission is not without risk -- the planet’s entire culture is based upon an elaborate set of courtly manners that dictate how one should behave in every circumstance. One misstep could destroy the nascent relationship between Syleese and the Federation before it even begins.</p>
<p>As Jim navigates these delicate negotiations with Spock at his side, he finds himself closer than he’s ever been to revealing his deepest secret...</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Stars Align

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many thanks to give! I could never have finished this without these wonderful people. 
> 
> Thank you [taradigrade](http://taradigrade.tumblr.com/) for creating this beautiful [art](http://taradigrade.tumblr.com/post/140093908295/thyla-big-bang-2016-based-on-pensives-amazing) and being such a pleasure to work with. Seeing my words brought to life through your skill and creativity is a gift, and I'm very thankful for it. <3
> 
> Thank you to AB, [druxykexy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/druxykexy/pseuds/druxykexy), [Ormond](http://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/pseuds/OrmondSacker), [plaidshirtjimkirk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/pseuds/plaidshirtjimkirk), and [RocknVaughn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RocknVaughn/pseuds/RocknVaughn) for beta'ing and helping me turn The Worst First Draft Ever into something readable. 
> 
> Thank you [TKodami](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TKodami/pseuds/TKodami) and [Museaway](http://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/pseuds/museaway) for doing such a brilliant job modding this challenge, and for being so supportive and wonderful to work with.
> 
> Thank you to everyone in TBB chat, especially my partner in stick-figure crime, [Venstar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Venstar/pseuds/Venstar), for chatting and commiserating and generally being supportive, even when we kept missing each other because timezones.
> 
> The title is taken from Lindsey Stirling's _[Stars Align](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=55_bV4ORRFM)_.

An old professor of Jim’s had been fond of saying, “A starship never sleeps.” 

Jim’s officers and crew members went about their tasks with all the professionalism he required, but there was nevertheless an unusual air of quietude in the corridors as Jim strode toward his quarters. His footfalls reverberated in the enclosed space, their steady rhythm punctuated at irregular intervals by those who passed him by with brief nods and verbal acknowledgements. 

Professor Jakande’s adage had always preceded a lecture on the demands a starship’s crew would be expected to meet in the line of duty. Years later, Jim still found himself in agreement, and yet he couldn’t deny the difference in the atmosphere of the ship as day yielded to night. 

When Jim reached his personal quarters, the door swished open to reveal the lean figure of his first officer seated in a chair opposite Jim’s desk. Spock’s dark head was bent over a PADD, and as Jim approached he looked up calmly. Despite the lateness of the hour, Spock’s sleek hair remained straight and even, with nary a strand out of place. Though he’d started his day even before Jim had, his uniform remained neat enough to pass inspection. Jim gazed thoughtfully at Spock until one slanted brow lifted in question.

“Captain?”

Jim chuckled softly from his position just inside the door to his quarters. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Spock. I see you managed to keep yourself occupied.”

Spock tilted his head slightly in inquiry. “You mentioned the possibility that your meeting with Ambassador Ng might run longer than anticipated, but you did not indicate that you wished to forego our regular game of chess. Therefore I assumed I was to await you here. Was I in error?”

“No error, Spock,” Jim said fondly, brushing his hand against Spock’s shoulder as he passed by. “The Ambassador is thorough, I’ll give her that, but the briefing ran so long that I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”

“I made productive use of the time,” Spock replied, setting his PADD aside. “Do you find yourself too weary for chess?”

“No, I could use the time to unwind before I try to sleep.”

Spock inclined his head. “As I do not yet require rest, I am amenable to that.” 

Jim sighed and rolled his neck, attempting to ease some of the tension that had taken up residence there. “Would you set up? I’m going to get a drink.” 

Wordlessly, Spock retrieved the chess set and began preparing for the game.

Jim poured two fingers of whiskey into a tumbler. “Do you want anything? Your usual tea?”

“That would be appreciated. Thank you, Jim.”

When the chime alerted Jim that the tea had finished steeping, he poured the fragrant liquid into a mug he kept exclusively for Spock’s use. He couldn’t remember quite when he’d begun keeping Vulcan spice tea and the necessary accoutrements for tea-brewing in his quarters, but it must have been quite early in their acquaintance for the process now felt familiar and comfortable. He placed the cup of steaming, deep amber tea at Spock’s elbow and took his place on the other side of the Tri-D chess board with a contented sigh. Jim reached for a pawn, rubbing his thumb absently against the smooth lucite before placing it on the board in his opening gambit.

They played in companionable silence for some time, speaking little until Spock paused, a rook held in midair as he studied Jim across the table. 

“You appear preoccupied this evening, Jim. Do you have concerns about the mission?”

Jim sat back in his chair with a weary sigh, watching as Spock placed his rook in the center of a square on the third level of the board with mathematical precision. Spock’s movements were always deft and exact, economical in a way at which Jim could only marvel. 

The elegance of Spock’s motions belied his strength, but Jim knew all too well the power in Spock’s lean body. For a moment, he was swept back to the place of _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_ , where he’d grappled with Spock as the sands of Vulcan burned hot against his back and the searing wind chafed his skin. The physical discomfort had been nothing compared to the anguish in Jim’s heart as Spock’s desert-warmed body pressed against his, not in passion, as Jim had so long desired, but in a killing rage. Spock had been lost to his hallowed logic, forced by the primal urges of his body to try to kill his captain and closest friend. Though Jim could not blame T’Pring for wanting a way out of a marriage not of her choosing, it nevertheless angered Jim deeply that Spock should be compelled by biology and tradition to endure this.

“Jim?”

“Sorry, Spock. Woolgathering.” Spock’s eyes glinted as they usually did right before a comment about ‘illogical human idioms,’ but before he could speak, Jim smiled and went on. 

“I suppose I am concerned. Ambassador Ng is unquestionably brilliant and excellent at what she does. It’s hardly her fault the Federation is so desperate for Syleese’s dilithium crystals that she’s been dispatched with minimal time to prepare, but the Syleesians have an extremely complex culture and there’s a lot that could go wrong.”

“It is regrettable that Ambassador Lapine took ill after completing such lengthy preparations,” Spock agreed. “But Ambassador Ng has displayed confidence and a complete understanding of the materials she was provided concerning Syleese.”

“I agree, but it’s a damned dangerous game we’re playing. There’s at least fourteen different ways you can insult your host just by using your utensils incorrectly at a meal. It’s something else, Spock.”

“Syleese does indeed have a most fascinating culture. Their technology is some of the most advanced we’ve seen in any civilization we have yet approached, while proudly maintaining a long tradition of elaborate courtly manners. It is an interesting juxtaposition of old and new.”

“Interesting, and damned inconvenient when I have the admiralty breathing down my neck,” Jim muttered. “I know, IDIC, but...I’m a soldier, not a diplomat. There are too many ways this could go wrong for me to feel at ease.”

“Have you made your final decision regarding the landing party?”

Jim slumped in his chair, studying the board idly. “I’m keeping it small. Less chance we’ll have any cultural faux pas that might jeopardize the negotiations. I’ll need you, of course, and Lieutenant Uhura. Bones, too. They use some kind of crystal healing techniques down there he’s dying to have a look at.”

“Logical choices.” Spock paused, his face as stoic as ever, and yet to Jim’s experienced eyes it was clear that his friend was considering his next move carefully. “You have not included security on the roster?”

“No,” Jim said regretfully. “Command left it up to me, but the ambassador persuaded me that given Syleese’s distaste for military matters, it would be a show of respect for their culture if security stayed on the ship.”

“They have indeed cultivated a highly non-violent society,” Spock agreed. “The Syleesians lived with almost constant war for centuries. This has given them an abhorrence of violence bordering on fanatical and a strong dedication to peace.”

Jim sat back, staring at the Tri-D chess board in resignation. “My mind just isn’t on the game tonight, my friend. You’ll have me in three.”

“You are correct, Jim,” Spock said, the corner of his mouth lifted in the barest hint of a wry smile. “If I am to have the victory, I would prefer to win it fairly...not as a result of your preoccupation. Therefore, I propose that we end the game. You require rest if you are to perform your duties to your usual standard.”

“Always the voice of reason, Mr. Spock,” Jim said with a fond expression. “I can hardly let you have an easy victory, can I? I’ll concede. But once this business with Syleese is over I’ll expect you here for a re-match, and you won’t find me such an easy opponent then, I promise you that.”

“I would never think otherwise, Jim.” Spock’s expression remained unchanged, but Jim could see the little hint of warmth in Spock’s dark eyes that he liked to fancy was for him alone. 

Spock unfolded himself from the chair, gathering his PADD and stylus before exiting Jim’s quarters with a nod of farewell. 

Alone for the first time since he’d started his duty shift early in what was now yesterday, Jim stretched, feeling his back creak as he moved. What he wouldn’t give to feel Spock’s strong fingers digging into his sore muscles, easing the pain and stress before moving on to more...pleasurable pursuits. Their altercation on Vulcan had become fodder for his imagination. It was sweet torture, knowing the strength and heft of Spock’s body against his own when he couldn’t act on the knowledge.

Jim scoffed at himself and began clearing away the chess pieces and board. He was a starship captain, not a schoolboy with his first crush. While he didn’t believe Vulcans to be quite as emotionless as they proclaimed, Jim had no reason to think that Spock would ever welcome such attentions from his captain. Even if he were to, it would be inappropriate for Jim to attempt to initiate a relationship with one of his subordinate officers. 

It was with a vague sense of longing and unhappiness that Jim went through his evening ablutions and retired to his bunk, tossing and turning on the narrow bed before slipping into a fitful sleep.

***

Jim approved of professionalism and punctuality, and he knew Ambassador Ng to possess both in spades. When he reached the transporter room early the next morning with Spock a comforting presence at his back, he was therefore unsurprised to find that Ambassador Ng had arrived earlier still and was speaking in low tones with her aide and Lieutenant Uhura. She turned to face him, the tail of her long scarf fluttering at her side as she moved. The colorful fabric offset the severity of her tailored navy pantsuit and complemented her golden tan skin and jet black hair. She was a lovely woman who had led a brilliant and distinguished career, her years of hard work visible only in the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and the touch of silver at her temples. Jim's smile was genuine as he nodded good morning to her.

“Ah, Captain, Commander,” she greeted them briskly. “I presume all is in readiness for our departure?”

“Yes, as soon as Doctor McCoy arrives -- and there he is.”

“Hope I haven’t kept you waiting, ma’am,” McCoy drawled as he stepped up beside Jim, flashing a grin at the Ambassador. 

“Fortunately, no,” Ambassador Ng replied with a gracious smile. “I trust you’ve all thoroughly reviewed and committed to memory the cultural brief prepared by Ambassador Lapine’s staff? It is regrettable that I was not able to personally supervise the preparation of the dossier on Syleese, but I have faith in what has been provided. It is critical that we reach a satisfactory trade agreement with Syleese during these talks.”

Jim smiled at Ambassador Ng and spoke with quiet pride. “You’ll find no fault with my crew, Ambassador. If it’s in the briefing, you can be sure they know it.”

“Excellent, Captain. Shall we proceed?”

They took their places on the pad and Jim gave the go ahead to the transporter chief. The familiar interior of the Enterprise faded away and Jim found himself standing on a dais formed out of a pink silicate that resembled nothing so much as rose quartz. The Syleesian delegation stood waiting, their tall, subtly metallic skinned forms artfully draped in fabric that gleamed softly in the lavender-tinged morning light. Crystalline trees surrounded the platform, their prismatic branches catching and refracting the sun’s rays. 

The leader of the delegation stepped forward, steepling the three fingers of each hand as she lifted them to touch the center of her forehead. She spoke in a stream of fluid syllables and directed her gaze at the Universal Translator in Lieutenant Uhura’s hand, waiting.

“Honored guests, we greet you. I am Midia of the First Council. I am honored to have been selected to welcome you to Syleese.” 

Jim moved forward with Ambassador Ng at his side. He returned the gesture and stepped back, looking to Ambassador Ng, who spoke clearly in reply. “We are honored to accept your greeting, Councillor Midia, and return it in kind. I am Ambassador Ng of the Federation Diplomatic Corps. We most humbly accept your offer of welcome.”

“Excellent,” Midia replied, lifting one slender arm and gesturing to where a gently sloping ramp curved away from the elliptical structure of the dais, down to meet a path lined on either side with twinkling crystals in shades of blue and pink. “If you and your party will kindly accompany me to the pavilion, we will begin the welcome ceremony and complete full introductions.”

Jim took his place behind Ambassador Ng and Lieutenant Uhura. There was a protocol for everything on Syleese, from matters of grave importance to something so minor as forming a queue. Women were always to walk in front in any procession, regardless of the rank of the members of the party. He felt Spock come up beside him, his hands no doubt tucked into the small of his back as he suppressed the urge to set his tricorder to begin scanning the surrounding flora and fauna. The crystal forest was a riot of color: pinks, lavenders, blues and blends of all three hues imbuing the leaves, trailing vines and glittering flower petals they passed. The trail on which they walked was smooth, studded with tiny iridescent grains that caught the light and glowed gently. On either side of the winding path a damp, springy-looking azure moss blanketed the ground. 

“Beautiful,” McCoy murmured, trailing his fingers along a nearby tree’s sparkling bark.

“Fascinating,” Spock agreed. “The plant-life is sheathed in a crystalline substance which protects it during Syleese’s cold season. It is a most unique evolutionary response to the long periods of subzero temperatures.”

“Wouldn’t the crystal covering the leaves prevent the absorption of water? The process of photosynthesis?”

“The crystalline substance is a simple organism which evolved in a symbiotic relationship with the plant life. While the plants are in a dormant state during the cold season, when Syleese returns from the furthest part of its elliptical orbit and is once again close enough to Kalinae to thaw, the crystalline coating thins and becomes permeable, thus allowing the plant to absorb the necessary nutrients.”

“So what does the crystal get out of the deal?” McCoy asked, obviously trying to hide his genuine curiosity behind a gruff tone.

Jim listened to Spock’s explanation of the intricacies of the symbiotic relationship between the crystalline organism and the plant life with half an ear as he contemplated the upcoming welcoming ceremony. It would be the first true test of his crew’s knowledge of Syleesian rituals, and while he was confident in their preparation as well as his own, he was in the habit of being as prepared as possible. One last mental review wouldn’t hurt. 

The sound of Spock’s deep rumble and Bones’ shorter replies was comforting and familiar as Jim walked along, lost in thought. At the front of the procession, the greeting party led the way silently. 

The path wound through the crystalline forest, cutting a swath of silvery-grey through the shimmering terrain. Jim glanced back to appreciate the sharp lines of Spock’s face against the pastel light that filtered through the glittering branches. He grinned to himself as he caught the familiar gleam of curiosity in Spock’s eyes. Syleesian etiquette might demand they wait until after the welcoming ceremony to conduct any research, but Spock was doubtlessly taking in every detail of their surroundings, processing them and forming preliminary conclusions. 

Jim took care to school his expression to one of appropriate solemnity as they came to a break in the trees and a large scarlet pavilion came into view. Beneath the billowing cloth rested an opaline disc set flush with the ground. Layers of gauzy fabric formed the top of the pavilion and fluttered in the breeze, allowing sunbeams to filter through its pattern and create ever-shifting shafts of light that illuminated the interior. 

Midia and the rest of the greeting party filed into the pavilion and took position in a crescent, leaving the other half open for Jim and the rest of the landing party to take their places opposite them. The ambassador took her place in the center, facing Midia. 

Silence and stillness reigned with only the sounds of nature around them until Midia moved at last, lifting steepled fingers to her forehead and then spreading her arms wide in a gesture of welcome.

“This is a place of peace and welcome. Here I vow that you, our visitors, will receive the courtesy and hospitality of Syleese,” Midia began, her voice pitched to carry. “We offer shelter, food and drink, safety, and companionship to all who come among us in peace. I, Midia of the First Council make this promise on behalf of these representatives of the Syleesian people, so named: Ideth of the First Council, Trismian of the Diplomatic Circle, Bithia of the Poet’s Guild, Charian of the Scrivener’s Guild, and Salree of the Science Guild.”

Ambassador Ng touched her hands to her forehead, then cupped them together and rested them in front of her as if in acceptance. “With gratitude, we accept. We vow to abhor violence and embrace peace as we walk among you. I, Ambassador Ng, make this promise on behalf of these visitors, so named: Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise, Commander Spock, First Officer and Chief Science officer of the USS Enterprise, Lt. Commander Leonard McCoy, Ship’s Surgeon of the USS Enterprise, Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, Communications Officer of the USS Enterprise, and Diplomatic Aide Brinna Aldien.”

When he heard his name, Jim lifted his hands to his forehead in salute before arranging them before him as Ambassador Ng had done. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the others did the same, until all the members of the landing party stood facing the welcoming party with their hands cupped in front of them. They held the pose as Midia looked around the circle, making eye contact with each participant before lowering her arms to her sides and smiling. 

“This concludes the ceremony. If you will kindly exit the place of ceremony in this direction,” she said, gesturing with one graceful arm, “refreshments will be served.”

***

It was amazing how much the greeting party had warmed to them now that the welcoming ceremony had successfully concluded. Jim found himself standing off to the side watching the Syleesians and his people chatting amiably as he sipped the sweet, sparkling beverage that had been presented to them at the end of the ceremony.

“Captain Kirk, I greet you.” 

Jim turned to see Ideth standing nearby with a diffident look. He nodded in greeting, placing his glass on a nearby flat-topped stone column before touching his steepled fingers to his forehead briefly in salute. 

“Councillor Ideth, I greet you.”

Ideth stepped closer, idly swirling the bubbling liquid in its long, cylindrical glass. “Your people acquitted themselves well during the ceremony, Captain. You honor us by respecting our customs.”

“I thank you, Councillor. We are aware of the importance of your traditions and will honor them to the best of our ability.”

“It is well, Captain,” Ideth replied, looking pleased. “We grasp the past tightly, honoring the old ways so that we will never forget what we were. The past must not become the future.”

“Very wise, Councillor,” Jim agreed. “You know, one of our old Earth philosophers said something very like that. ‘Those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it.’”

“Perhaps our peoples have more in common than we thought,” Ideth said. “Do you know the history of our welcoming ceremony?”

“Regrettably, no. Our studies centered more on how to participate in it, rather than the history behind it.”

“Understandable, Captain. No doubt you have noticed the beauty of our planet, have you not?”

Jim nodded, and Ideth continued. “There is a price for the loveliness you see around you, and it is our cold season. Of course, we now have the technology to go about our lives normally during this time, but long ago to be left without shelter in the cold season was to die. It was considered a very ignominious death and even sworn enemies would offer one another shelter from the cold. Our welcome ceremony has its roots in the hospitality truce of old, when enemies would swear a sacred oath of peace so that their shelter would not be compromised. Our people have now moved on from our violent past and we no longer have need of sacred oaths to ensure peace, but we have retained the ceremony and embellished it over the years. We must ensure that every being on Syleese knows the importance of this tradition.”

“It is that,” Jim said agreeably. “In your past, did they never extend the peace once the threat had ended? One would think sharing quarters during your cold season would be a good start toward diplomacy.”

“Sadly, that was rare. While our people were unwilling to see anyone, even an enemy, succumb to the cold, resources were too scarce to share even in the best of times. Before we learned to fully utilize the minerals with which this planet is so richly infused, the clans fought viciously for survival. Even with modern agricultural technology our arable land is not as extensive as we might hope.”

“All the more reason for us to succeed in our talks, then,” Jim said. “All the Federation has to offer can be available to you.”

“And you said you had no skill for diplomacy, Captain,” Ambassador Ng said as she approached, before turning to Ideth. “Councillor Ideth, I greet you.”

“I greet you, Ambassador,” Ideth replied. “Surely you jest? The captain has acquitted himself most admirably thus far.”

“He has indeed,” Ambassador Ng said warmly. “So admirably, in fact, that I must request that he attend the meeting with Vice-Chancellor Amarr without me. Councillor Midia has shown me the great honor of inviting me to attend the first day of the Festival of the Peace Bringer. As only female-identified beings may attend on the first day of the festival, Lieutenant Uhura, Brinna, and I will have to rely on you, Commander Spock, and Doctor McCoy to meet with the Vice-Chancellor. I am told he is a great admirer of Starfleet’s exploratory work, and wishes to hear of your adventures.”

“I’m sure we can think of a few stories for him, Ambassador.”

“Excellent.”

***

A short flight in a silvery-grey hover vehicle transported Jim, Spock, and Bones to the city center. Ideth left them in the care of the Vice-Chancellor’s aide, Yfran, who greeted them in the Syleesian fashion before leading them into the large domed structure that served as a capitol building. Yfran seemed less voluble than the other Syleesians Jim had encountered, his manner deferential as he guided them through the twisting corridors to a large chamber with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the sparkling capital city. It was a spectacular view, made more so by the knowledge that the windows were completely opaque outside.

In the center of the room sat a desk of carved crystal, and behind it a Syleesian male with cobalt braids wound around his head in a coronet threaded with silver and studded with gems the same amethyst hue as his eyes. He stood as Jim approached, smiling widely.

“Though we have little contact with outsiders, stories of your heroics have reached us even here, Captain Kirk. I am Vice-Chancellor Amarr, and I am most honored to greet you.”

“The honor is mine, Vice-Chancellor. I hope the stories you’ve heard are all good,” Jim said.

“While our people have a most profound abhorrence for violence, we greatly admire exploration and pursuit of knowledge. Your Starfleet’s dedication to these ideals is quite commendable.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Vice-Chancellor.”

“Will you take refreshment? I am told the juice of our _galla_ fruit is quite palatable even to those not from our planet.”

Jim glanced at Spock out of the corner of his eye. Their scans had indicated that the Syleesian _galla_ fruit was likely incompatible with Vulcan physiology and he was loathe to risk it, even with his friend’s hybrid genetics, but to refuse the offer would give insult in a way they could hardly afford. He relaxed slightly at Spock’s almost imperceptible nod, and smiled at the Vice-Chancellor.

“You honor us with your offer, Vice-Chancellor and we humbly accept.”

“Excellent, most excellent. Yfran, if you please?”

Yfran moved from his position against the wall nearest the door to a side table, where a shiny metal decanter and a set of glassware awaited. He poured the beverages and carried them over, serving first Jim as the highest-ranking guest, then the Vice-Chancellor as the host, before looking to Jim to ascertain in what order the rest of the party should be served. Spock stepped forward to accept a glass, followed by McCoy. 

The beverage was a vivid pink with a light floral aroma. After turning the glass so that the cleverly inward-curled lip on one side faced the Vice-Chancellor, he lifted it and rotated his wrist and tilted it toward the Vice-Chancellor and then his companions, watching as Spock and Bones did the same before taking small sips. Jim tensed, wondering if anyone would notice that Spock was not actually drinking the liquid, but the Syleesians seemed pleased as long as they went through the motions.

Jim’s concern over Spock and the possibility of a diplomatic incident had taken all his attention, so much so that he’d barely noticed the mild flavor of the juice. With his worries relieved, Jim took a deeper drink, finding it to be more complex than expected with a light floral note on the tip of his tongue and a tart finish. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the expected compliment was sincere.

“Very good, Vice-Chancellor. Thank you.”

“I am pleased that you like it, Captain,” Amarr said, tilting his glass toward Jim again, which Jim acknowledged by repeating the gesture.

Amarr smiled, drawing purple-painted lips back from his gleaming white teeth. “After we have finished our refreshments, Captain, I hope to hear more of your journeys--”

A panel on the smooth white wall lit up, and Yfran backed away from the group with a bow, going to speak in low tones with the image of a young Syleesian woman there. The universal translator tucked into Jim’s belt struggled to pick up the conversation at a distance, capturing words only intermittently, but Jim clearly heard, “storm,” “evacuation,” and “dispute.” Amarr’s expression turned grave, and he handed his glass to Yfran as he rejoined them before turning to Jim, steepling his fingers and touching them to his forehead in salute before bowing deeply. 

“Captain, I deeply regret this insult, but I must cut our taking of refreshments short so that I may attend a holo-conference with the governor of one of our settlements on the southern continent. As your translation device no doubt picked up, there is a dispute between local governing councils concerning an evacuation which must take place due to an impending hurricane. For the safety of our people, I must override the local councils and declare a state of emergency.”

“Of course, Vice-Chancellor. No insult is taken. The safety of your people comes first.”

“It is kind of you to understand, Captain. Still, as recompense for this insult, you must allow me to provide your party with appropriate attire for this evening’s ball. You will be attending, will you not?”

“We will be honored to attend, Vice-Chancellor. But no recompense is required.”

“Oh, but I insist. What would you wear otherwise? Your Starfleet has what you call...dress uniforms, yes? With buttons and ribbons and the like?”

Jim chuckled. “That is the usual custom, yes.” 

Spock came up beside him, a warming presence. He felt the subtle pressure of Spock’s elbow and took it for the warning it was. The offering and receiving of gifts was, like every other aspect of Syleesian culture, a complex matter. 

“I’m sure we can manage some appropriate finery to honor Syleese’s commitment to peace without putting you to the trouble of providing us with garments.”

“Nonsense! You are my honored guests and I must take my leave of you earlier than anticipated. The least I can do is ensure that your people are suitably attired to make a fine impression at your debut in Syleesian high society. Not that I am insinuating that your appearance is unsatisfactory in any way, of course.”

“If you insist, Vice-Chancellor, then we humbly accept.”

“Excellent! I cannot tell you how pleased I am, nor how pleased my dear friend Essenra will be to design for you. It will most assuredly add to her status, to clothe such distinguished guests.”

“I thank you, Vice-Chancellor. I hope it won’t be too much trouble for Essenra to produce the garments in such a short period of time.”

“No trouble indeed, Captain, although I honor you for your consideration. Our synthesizers will manage it easily, once Essenra has entered the design data. But now I must take my leave. The sooner this dispute is resolved, the sooner the evacuation can be completed and our people's safety assured.”

Amarr saluted and left, the train of his sarong whispering along the stone floor as he departed. Yfran turned to Jim, and waited. Jim looked at him, and then Spock, before recalling the forgotten beverage in his hand. While the etiquette for accepting the beverage had been included in their briefing, what to do in the event of an interruption to the taking of refreshment had not. Jim could only take his best guess, and lifted the glass in salute to Yfran as his new host before taking another sip. Yfran relaxed, obviously pleased, and reciprocated the gesture. When he and Bones had drunk all but just enough juice to cover the bottom of the glass, he pressed it into Yfran’s outstretched hand, waiting to see what, if any, reaction would be given to Spock’s still full container. Yfran affected not to notice it, and took the glassware away, tradition satisfied.

“I shall now show you to your quarters, if you please. Once you have received your key-crystals and are settled there, if you should like to explore the city I would be honored to arrange transportation for you. Or, you may wish to rest prior to this evening’s ball. No insult will be given in either case.”

“We humbly accept your offer, Yfran. Lead the way.”

***

Jim approached his guest quarters and waved the cuff on his forearm past the sensor on the doorframe. When the inset crystal passed in front of the softly glowing eye, a soft click sounded and the door began to slide open noiselessly. As Jim stepped inside, he lifted his arm to examine the silver cuff he wore. It contained an iridescent cabochon crystal shot through with hair-thin veins containing microscopic circuitry that radiated light and allowed the crystal to function as a passkey.

The door slid closed behind him and Jim stepped out of his boots, curious to see if the spongy floor pad was as soft as it appeared. He’d made only a cursory examination of the room before, but now he took his time. Jim padded across the thick floor covering, feeling a bounce in his step as he traversed the room. He ran an appreciative hand over the fine linens on the large oval bed and wandered over to the bathing facilities. The bathing chamber featured wall-to-wall malachite with a luxurious sunken tub and assortment of oils and unguents in decorative bottles lined alongside a stack of the softest towels he’d ever touched. He left the bathroom and moved to the fully-stocked bar in the sumptuous living area. The bar had been thoughtfully stocked with not only the ubiquitous _galla_ juice, but also an array of terran beverages. There was even coffee, or at least the freeze-dried powder that had the temerity to call itself coffee, although of course the Syleesians had no way of knowing that. Jim appreciated the gesture, knowing how difficult it must have been to procure such things in this system. 

Drink in hand, he finally came to a stop at the large window offering a panoramic view of Syleese’s glittering capital city, looking out over the architecture he’d been admiring up close only a short time ago. Now, the frost-white structures seemed to glow in the dying light, no doubt due to the countless miniscule crystals embedded in the building material. A knock at the door drew him from his reverie, and with regret, Jim turned away from the captivating view to answer it. 

Yfran waited on the other side, a stack of metallic boxes balanced lengthwise across both his outstretched palms. 

“Good evening, Captain. May I enter?”

“Enter and be welcome, Yfran.”

“I enter in peace,” Yfran intoned before stepping over the threshold. “I have brought a selection of garments for your use at the ball this evening. I am to pass on to you the compliments of their designer, Essenra. She found your form most pleasing to work with.” Yfran deposited the boxes on a table and waited expectantly.

“I see,” Jim said, amused. “Please give her my thanks for her kind words -- and for her work.”

“I will be pleased do so, Captain. But do you not wish to first inspect the clothing?”

“Oh, of course.” Jim lifted the first box, parted the filmy paper lining it and removed a short, sleeveless jacket similar to a bolero. From the look of it, it would stop just below his ribcage, leaving his stomach bare. The golden fabric was studded with beadwork in fanciful swirling patterns and various crystal-tipped strings of the same aureate hue dangled from it, indicating that he would need to be laced into the garment. The jacket was paired with a sarong and a pair of flat shoes adorned with strings that matched those attached to the jacket. Jim suspected the strings would need to wrap around his legs up to mid-thigh judging from the two garter-type strips of leathery material to which they were tied. 

“Most...impressive, Yfran. And all of this without having met me or taken any measurements, too. This Essenra certainly knows her way around clothing.”

“She is the preeminent designer on Syleese, and a personal friend of the Vice-Chancellor,” Yfran replied. “This is the latest style for male formal attire on Syleese. You would be quite fashionable in this one.”

“I can see that,” Jim said, as he turned back to the boxes and opened the second one.

Where the other garment was flashy, this one was subtle. The dark olivine fabric felt rich and luxuriously smooth against his hands, almost decadent in its softness. Delicate threads of pale grey formed neat geometric patterns in the cloth, and called to mind the embroidered robes worn in Earth’s medieval period.

He estimated the long tunic would reach his knees, and the tapered sleeves would fit close around his forearms, leaving only his wrists and hands bare. The matching trousers would tuck into the dove grey boots, done up in what felt like butter-soft leather embossed with the same patterns as the tunic. A silky grey sash completed the outfit.

“Remarkable, truly,” Jim said appreciatively.

“An older style, but one which is tried and true,” Yfran remarked. “The Vice-Chancellor would be most _gratified_ if you wore this one.” 

Jim wondered at the pause before the Universal Translator enunciated “gratified”, but with Yfran watching him expectantly and time running short before dinner, he didn’t have time to puzzle over it.

Both garments were attractive and well-made, and while Jim didn’t have a particular interest in fashion, he suspected both would be equally flattering, if in different ways. But the second outfit, with its refined good looks and elegance suited him better. Jim wasn’t plagued with false modesty, but saw no reason to flaunt himself tonight. In fact, it would probably be wiser not to given that they’d learned that it was customary for the Syleesians to select a partner for a night of pleasure after the ball. Jim had no intention of participating in this particular tradition, and perhaps it was better to choose the more conservative garment. 

Jim held up his chosen clothing, nodding at Yfran. “This one will work well, I think. Looks comfortable, too. Do I need to wrap the other one up for you to take back?” he asked, gesturing toward the pile of shimmery gold fabric on the table.

“You have made an excellent choice, Captain,” Yfran replied. “As both sets of clothing have been crafted especially for you, we insist that you keep them. Perhaps you will have some occasion to wear the other during your time on Syleese.”

Privately, Jim thought this was unlikely, but he nodded his thanks to Yfran anyway. 

“Now that you have suitable attire for the ball, I should leave you to prepare. Your hosts would be most pleased should you be ready to depart fifteen chimes into the second night-song. Your console there,” Yfran pointed to a silver wire-rimmed screen around which more of the circuit-crystals were clustered, “is attuned to the Great Instrument, should you require it.”

Jim nodded his thanks, and Yfran backed out of the room in a deferential manner. While Jim found Syleesian etiquette unnecessarily cumbersome at times, the Syleesians were nothing if not gracious hosts. The garments in his hands were of the finest make, and a clear indication that Syleesian synthesizer technology was advanced and would be eagerly received by the Federation. The clothing itself would not be out of place in the high-end boutiques in the most exclusive shopping districts in the Federation. 

He walked over to the console, passing his hand in front of the ornate mirrored screen. It lit up immediately in response, emitting a lilting tone of inquiry. 

“What is the time?” he asked. The screen flickered and a second later, the flowing language of the Syleesians -- unpronounceable by humans or Vulcans -- emerged from the Universal Translator. The console responded in kind, and within another second his answer emerged from the translator, informing him that it was currently the seventh chime of the first night-song. Given that there were eighty-eight chimes in each song, he had...ninety-six chimes before he had to be ready to leave for the ball, which was roughly an hour and twenty minutes.

Jim looked at the garments again. Because he’d chosen the simpler attire, it shouldn’t take long for him to dress, and unlike the Syleesians with their elaborate hairstyles, he required no special grooming. A bath would be necessary, and a welcome change from the cramped shower cubicle he used on the _Enterprise_. Even allowing time for that, he ought to be able to get some work done first. He commanded the console to alert him at the forty-fifth chime of the first night-song, and after the translation delay, it confirmed his order before going dark once more.

Pulling his PADD from his travel bag, he settled at the comfortable desk and started in on his messages. He trusted that Mr. Scott had his ship well in hand, but a starship captain’s work was never truly done.

***

Jim walked briskly down the halls of the House of Lodging, anxious to reach the lobby as quickly as possible. The twentieth chime of the second night-song had sounded just as he’d stepped out of his room, and he cursed the bureaucratic nonsense that had precipitated his late departure. It may not have been his fault, but Jim found it annoying nonetheless. He hoped that he would be able to mitigate any insult his tardy arrival might give to the Syleesians.

Yfran stood waiting in the lobby, his three-fingered hands held in front of his slender body, barely touching at each fingertip. As Jim approached, Yfran lifted his hands in salute and spoke. 

“Captain Kirk, I greet you.”

“Yfran, I greet you. I deeply regret any insult given by my lateness.”

“No insult is taken, Captain. Ambassador Ng advised us that your superiors were most insistent that you complete important business for them. Your tardiness is excusable.”

“I am relieved, Yfran, and I thank you for your understanding.”

“Thanks are appreciated, but unnecessary,” Yfran replied. “The rest of your party was sent ahead so that the ambassador could arrive at the proper time, but I have a vehicle waiting to transport you and I will ensure that you are taken directly to the dining hall for a most discreet entrance. The Vice-Chancellor has already smoothed your way to prevent any untoward talk.”

“Then I must give him my thanks when I see him,” Jim said. “I’m ready when you are.”

It was a short ride across the city and Jim looked with pleasure on the glittering buildings against the deep purple night sky. Syleese was unquestionably beautiful and could look forward to the bounty of tourism as much as their technology and mineral rights should they choose to open their planet to Federation citizens. 

The vehicle landed next to the large event hall where the ball was being held. Jim stepped out, nodding his thanks to the pilot before turning to face the grand building.

The hall was near the center of the city, where the Great Instrument stood tall and rang out its constant melody of twinkling chimes. The cinereal ground beneath Jim’s feet held a pearlescent lustre; tiny flecks of crystal were seeded throughout the paving material, matching the designs embedded in the surrounding buildings. Jim was surrounded by light and music, and the cool breeze carried the cotton-candy scent of the _galla_ trees’ pink blooms to his nose. He inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet fragrance. Despite his urgency to join the banquet, Jim found himself inspired by the beautiful atmosphere. 

Jim shook his head and smiled to himself before turning purposefully toward the event hall once more, only to stop short at the sight of Spock. His breath caught in his chest as he looked at Spock standing before him, illuminated in the rose-gold light pouring from the octagonal windows.

The stylist had done him justice, somehow creating an outfit that suited Spock’s ascetic nature while enhancing his lean figure so he seemed to stand taller. The solid black of his close-fitting sleeves came to points over the backs of his hands, drawing attention to his elegant fingers. His long, belted tunic conformed to his upper body and fell in a straight line to his knees, and beneath it he wore close-fitting black leggings and low-heeled boots. The fabric covered him almost head-to-toe, but for the deep vee on his chest, revealing the thick mat of chest hair Jim itched to run his fingers through. He wished he could sample the texture of hair against skin and see for himself if the dark curls were coarse or silky-soft. It was hardly risque, but with only that tempting bit of skin showing it somehow seemed even more provocative, especially with the open circle pendant resting among the whorls of black hair. Spock’s expression was calm as usual, and he nodded as Jim closed the gap between them. 

“Captain.” 

“Spock, you didn’t have to wait for me.”

“The ambassador has everything well in hand, and Yfran requested my presence to ensure your discreet entrance to the festivities was accomplished successfully.”

Jim turned to Yfran. “How will we do this, then?”

“There is a brief opening ceremony taking place at the moment, Captain,” Yfran replied. “It would be most untoward for you to enter during this time. I will escort you and Commander Spock to the side entrance of the event hall, and then to the atrium just outside the dining hall. If you wait just to the side of the atrium entrance, you can blend into the crowd as it proceeds into the dining hall. Word has already circulated that you were needed to confer with your subordinate, and it will be assumed that you merely stepped out and returned.”

“And no one will question this?” Jim asked skeptically.

“Certainly it is...flimsy, perhaps? But as an honored guest, the assemblage will choose not to question it too deeply so long as appearances are maintained.”

Jim smiled ruefully at Spock. Syleese was indeed living up to all that they’d been told. Appearances were king on Syleese. Spock only lifted his brow questioningly, and fell in beside Jim, hands clasped neatly behind his back as Yfran led them around to the side of the building.

***

After waiting for all of the female ball-goers to pass by into the banquet hall, Jim and Spock merged into the crowd of following males. As promised, they endeavoured not to notice Jim and Spock...at least overtly, but there was no way that a human and a Vulcan could not stand out. It was with relief that Jim saw Lieutenant Uhura, radiant in rich cloth-of-gold robes, Ambassador Ng looking serene in an áo dài the same shade as the Syleesian night sky, and Bones, somehow appearing more comfortable than Jim would have expected in striking formalwear the exact shade of his eyes, of a similar cut to Jim’s own raiment.

The Ambassador smiled in welcome at their arrival, then turned to welcome Vice-Chancellor Amarr as he approached, his face alight.

“Our honored guests! I cannot tell you how privileged I feel to be able to greet you on this, the most important occasion in Syleesian society!”

“We are honored to be included, Vice-Chancellor,” Ambassador Ng replied smoothly, performing the touch of her fingers to her forehead as she spoke. 

“Truly, it is a marvel,” Amarr remarked with delight. “Your people have demonstrated such a remarkable understanding of our ways. We are truly honored.”

“It is we who are honored, Vice-Chancellor. Syleese has been most gracious to us indeed.”

“Ambassador, it is the least we can do. I must ask how you enjoyed the festival today?”

As Ambassador Ng answered, Jim glanced away, taking in the banquet hall. Everything gleamed, from the linen draped tables to the three-footed chairs adorned with plump cushions dripping with tassels and beads that let out a musical clatter each time someone moved a chair or shifted in their seat. The room must have been equipped with sound dampeners, because in here the Great Instrument was silenced. In its place, a soft Syleesian chorale swirled through the room, suffusing the area with music just loud enough to be heard without overpowering conversation. A lighted panel in the front of the room displayed a visual representation of the Great Instrument’s chimes; Jim was curious to see marks placed in certain areas on the pane and wondered if they indicated the progression of events for the evening.

The Vice-Chancellor’s touch on his arm brought Jim back to the conversation, and he looked up at Amarr who was smiling in an oddly demure way with his amethyst eyes fixed on Jim’s attire. Amarr wore the same color as Jim, which perhaps explained why Yfran had said the Vice-Chancellor would be gratified if Jim chose the olive ensemble, but Amarr’s clothing was of a vastly different cut. Once again he wore a sarong slung low on his hips and secured with a jeweled clasp. Amarr’s flat stomach was bare beneath the open sleeveless bolero that flared open just beneath his ribs, leaving much of his chest exposed. His empty pendant rested against his skin, framed by the bolero’s decorative grey buttons.

“Syleesian fashion suits you, Captain,” Amarr said at length.

“You honor me with your compliment, Vice-Chancellor. I must give all credit to you as my benefactor, and to the talented Essenra for her excellent work.”

“Essenra will be most pleased. In fact, it would be my honor to introduce you to her this evening.”

“I would appreciate that, Vice-Chancellor. I’d be pleased to give her my thanks in person.”

“As she would be to receive them, I’m sure. Although I must warn you, you may expect her to chide you for ruining the lines of her design with your device there,” Amarr said with a broad smile, gesturing to the Universal Translator Jim had secured to his belt.

“I’m afraid it was necessary, Vice-Chancellor.”

“Indeed so, Captain. In any case, I do not find the effect lessened by your technology, and it is pleasing to be able to communicate freely. It is a shame that our stones of speaking do not yet function as effectively as they should with your language. It is a matter that our scientists take most seriously, I assure you.”

“We are honored that they would devote their energies to this task, Vice-Chancellor.”

The music intensified, becoming louder until a melody became clear ever so briefly, before receding. Jim looked over and saw Ambassador Ng talking with a female Syleesian he knew from holos to be Chancellor Kaless. The Chancellor gestured with one slender arm for Ambassador Ng to accompany her, followed by Lieutenant Uhura, Ambassador Ng’s assistant Brinna, Charian, and Midia, with whom Bones had been speaking. Charian fell back from his place beside Uhura to join Jim, Spock, and the Vice-Chancellor, smiling politely. 

“Shall we follow the ladies to our table?”

Amarr, as the highest ranking male in their group, nodded and led the way. Jim took the opportunity to nudge Bones with his elbow and send a significant look in the direction of the woman to whom Bones had been talking.

Jim leaned in close and murmured, “You seemed cozy with Midia.” 

Bones huffed. “She’s arranged for me to spend the day at the Healing Center tomorrow, if you must know.”

“That looked like more than shop talk to me, Bones,” Jim teased. 

A slow smile came over McCoy’s face as his eyes cut away from Jim to glance at Midia walking near the front of the group. “You can’t blame a man for talking to a beautiful woman, Jim.”

“I suppose not.” Jim’s mouth quirked with amusement. 

“What about you? Are you planning to ‘exchange crystals’ with anyone tonight?” Bones asked slyly.

Jim reached up to touch the open circle pendant resting against his chest. It possessed a clever mechanism to secure a cabochon of the exact size and shape as the key to his chambers...or the key to someone else’s, as all of the key crystals were seemingly identical and yet as unique as as snowflakes in the configuration of the millions of microscopic circuits within. According to Syleesian custom, those wishing to share a night of pleasure would exchange the crystals from their armlets, slotting them into their pendants to show their intent. While all the pendants worn by his crew were empty at the moment, Jim noticed that some exchanges had already taken place in the crowd, the would-be lovers staying close and delicately gesturing to the occupied pendants when others approached as a subtle cue that no propositions would be entertained. It was an elegant system, Jim thought, for while the Syleesians were sex-positive, it was apparently rather déclassé to discuss such things directly.

“No, I don’t plan to exchange any crystals,” Jim replied, clapping a companionable hand on McCoy’s shoulder. “But feel free to indulge, so long as you don’t cause any diplomatic incidents.”

“You give me too much credit, Jim. I hardly think a simple country doctor like me will be causing any incidents,” Bones said with a laugh. 

“As you left your beads and rattles on board the ship, I find I must agree,” Spock murmured from behind them.

“Just because it’s not your particular way of doing things, Mr. Spock, doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.”

“Indeed not,” Spock said. “The Syleesian way of conducting courtship is a subject worthy of study. Despite its intricacies, it is a system so well known to all Syleesians that incidents of misunderstanding or violence between intimate partners are almost unheard of.”

“That wasn’t in the briefing,” McCoy said in an irritated tone. “And what does that have to do with the way I practice medicine?”

“Nothing, Doctor. You remarked that a ‘simple country doctor’ was unlikely to cause any diplomatic incidents, and I had to agree, as you will not be performing those functions on Syleese. I cannot comment on your interpersonal relationships. And you are correct, this data was not included in the briefing provided to us. I availed myself of the direct link to the Syleesian Hall of Records provided by the console in my room.”

“And of all the topics to peruse, you chose that one?” McCoy asked incredulously.

“It was one of many topics on which I educated myself,” Spock said.

McCoy stifled his laughter with a cough as they approached the head table. Like the others, it was draped in fine linen, but where the rest of the tables were meant to seat diners in groups of six, this large table had capacity for twenty diners. Jim scanned the room, unsurprised to see that they were the focus of the crowd’s attention as they climbed the dais at the front of the banquet hall. As the ladies took their seats, Jim found Vice-Chancellor Amarr at his side, smiling.

“I would be honored to be your dining partner this evening, Captain, if it pleases you?”

“Of course, Vice-Chancellor. I thank you for the offer.”

“Excellent,” Amarr said, taking the seat next to him. Jim looked across the table to Spock, already deep in discussion with Salree about the Science Guild’s efforts to develop floating sky gardens. Next to Spock, Bones was seated with Midia and seemed to be engaged in easy conversation with her already, even with the slight delays caused by the Universal Translator. 

“I hope this meal pleases you, Captain. The finest in Syleesian cuisine will be presented to you this evening.” 

“I’m sure it will,” Jim said easily. He mentally reviewed his Syleesian dining etiquette, making sure to reach for his water glass with only his right hand and to tip his glass first to his dining partner, and then to the table at large before drinking from it. Give him a battle in space any day over this, he thought. 

“Captain, may I fill your glass for you?” Amarr asked, gesturing toward the cut-crystal tumbler set to the right of Jim’s plate.

“That would be very kind of you, Vice-Chancellor. I thank you for the offer.”

Amarr smiled and picked the glass up with his left hand, then lifted the silver water pitcher with his right, filling the glass. He returned the pitcher to its spot on the table and offered the glass to Jim with both hands. It was a slight deviation from any of the etiquette protocols Jim remembered reading, but he accepted the glass anyway, tilting it toward Amarr, and then the table before taking a small sip.

The meal progressed, one course after the other, and Jim watched as the landing party carefully and scrupulously adhered to the guidelines on which Ambassador Ng had so thoroughly drilled them. They were performing to the highest standard, just as he’d expected them to do.

“Captain, I notice that you did not take any _eelen_ when the server brought it around...it’s quite a delicacy and I would hate for you to miss it.”

“ _Eelen_ , you say? I can’t say I’m familiar with it,” Jim said.

“It is the fruit of the _Felisses_ tree, which blooms only briefly during the cold season. The fruit must ripen on the tree and fall to the ground during the thaw if the seed is to take root. For a time, the tree became greatly endangered due to over-harvesting, but thanks to our sustainability practices it is thriving once more. Because we can only collect a small percentage of the fruits, they are a rare delicacy.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Oh, they are, they are. This evening the chef has poached them in a syrup of the _galla_ fruit with sweet herbs. Delectable.” Amarr gestured to his plate, where two small, round fruits rested in a pool of scarlet syrup. He speared one with his delicate, dual-tined fork and offered it to Jim. “I would be pleased to share with you.”

Jim took a sip of water to allow himself to think. He didn’t recall this _eelen_ fruit being on the list of foods known to cause problems for humans. He knew Bones had brought down a full medical kit, so if he did end up having a reaction to it, it was unlikely to cause significant problems. The Syleesians had requested information regarding their guests’ food and environmental sensitivities and other than offering juice of the _galla_ fruit to Spock, had adhered to it scrupulously. Jim glanced at Amarr, still watching him expectantly. His manner seemed to indicate that he really wanted Jim to accept, and as he wiped his mouth with a napkin, Jim thought back to the dining etiquette...had there been any mention of sharing food? He couldn’t recall any, but the briefing had explicitly stated that keeping amity with one’s dining partner was expected. Jim felt he had better take the proffered fruit.

Jim accepted the offered utensil and deposited the fruit on his plate before handing the fork back to Amarr. He lifted his own fork and ate the fruit, finding it pleasantly sweet and piquant. Jim finished chewing and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, finding scarlet syrup on the snowy white fabric. He wondered if his lips had been stained red. He looked to Amarr, who watched with an air of fascinated delight.

“Was it to your liking, Captain?”

“Very much so, Vice-Chancellor. You were kind to share.”

“I was very pleased to do so, Captain. _Very_ pleased.”

A chime sounded, and servers appeared to collect their plates in advance of the next course. Jim suppressed a sigh of relief. This interminable meal was nearly over, now that the final course was about to commence. 

Thin, delicate plates with lacy edges were placed in front of the diners for the dessert course, and Jim found the chewy, cake-like dessert on his plate rather bland, but not unpleasant. It seemed that the Syleesians loved strong, bright flavors in their fruits, but more subtle tastes in savory foods and the soft loaves that passed for bread here. Beside him, Amarr ate his own dessert, smiling at Jim every so often. His dining partner certainly seemed affable, and Jim only hoped the remainder of his diplomatic interactions with the Syleesians were so smoothly navigated. 

As Jim finished his dessert, a server came by to collect the plate, and Amarr looked at Jim with a bright smile. 

“As we have both finished our meals, would you accompany me to the ballroom?”

“Do we not need to wait for the ladies to precede us?”

“Normally, yes. The exception is at the end of a meal prior to a ball, as it would be most improper to expect everyone to finish dining at the same time. Those who prefer to linger over their final course might feel rushed and we wish to avoid that.”

“Very sensible,” Jim replied. “In that case, I’d be pleased to accompany you.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim spied Spock and his dining companion rising from the table and following, and Jim felt better, knowing Spock was at his back.

***

As Jim entered the ballroom, the soft acapella chant of the banquet hall gave way to a lively, uptempo melody more suited to dancing. Though he had been exposed to a variety of Syleesian music since his arrival, this piece seemed to have an odd cadence, as if the composer hadn’t quite been able to decide how many beats should be in each measure and had therefore assigned notes randomly. The large ballroom was a showpiece to be sure, with its polished stone floor and high domed planchement. The oviform ceiling was painted the rich amaranthine color of the Syleesian night sky, and set into it were millions of tiny, sparkling crystals housing tiny light filaments, giving ball-goers the illusion of dancing in the starlight.

Jim took another sip of _galla_ wine from the delicate glass in his hand, watching as Bones swept by with Councillor Midia, the filmy scarves that comprised her gown floating through the air as she danced.  
He caught the glint of the crystal on her wrist as she moved, so it seemed that while the two were getting on splendidly, no post-ball plans had yet been made. 

Nearby, Uhura accepted the hand of another dance partner with a brilliant smile. She was radiant in her beautiful gown and had, to Jim’s knowledge, danced every dance since entering the ballroom. Uhura’s gleaming golden skirts swirled against her dance partner’s scarlet robes as they moved through the intricate steps of a dance she’d picked up effortlessly.

A server walked by with an oblong silver platter raised high above his head. Jim felt a sympathetic twinge in his biceps just looking at him. He certainly looked elegant as he held the ornate tray, but Jim couldn’t imagine having to maintain such a posture for hours. The server paused and lowered his tray within Jim’s reach. Jim placed his now-empty glass on the tray and, after a moment’s hesitation, selected another glass. _Galla_ juice, once fermented, became a very potent beverage, but he’d had only one glass and as long as he consumed the second as slowly as he had the first he anticipated no problems.

Jim nodded his thanks to the server and turned to Amarr to tilt his beverage toward him before drinking. Amarr had remained by his side throughout the ball, maintaining a running commentary on the other guests and sharing interesting tidbits about Syleesian music and culture. He had also asked Jim to dance, and had seemed unoffended by Jim’s carefully worded refusal. Jim considered himself a reasonably skilled dancer, but the complex maneuvers taking place on the dance floor held no appeal for him despite their beauty -- and he had no desire to harm diplomatic relations by stepping on the Vice-Chancellor’s toes.

The Ambassador was deep in conversation with Chancellor Kaless, Brinna at her side, and Spock had positioned himself with his back against a wall, a tall, brooding figure taking in the scene with observant eyes. Jim continued sipping his _galla_ wine, shifting his weight slightly. The garments with which Jim had been provided were surprisingly easy to wear, and the boots remained comfortable even after hours of standing. At length, he finished his drink and lowered his hand to his side, the glass dangling from his fingers. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim spied Bones and Councillor Midia standing off to the side of the dance floor, speaking quietly to one another. Their body language was intimate, their heads inclined toward one another and their hands were nearly touching. To Jim's delight, he saw Midia touch McCoy's wrist with three delicate fingers before touching the cuff she wore and releasing her key crystal. Bones accepted the offered crystal and slotted it into the pendant on his chest before unfastening and offering his own crystal. Jim grinned to himself at the thought of all the ribbing Bones could look forward to the next day. Jim might not be partaking in the pleasures of the evening, but he could find his own fun teasing his irascible friend. He was just considering his opening salvo at breakfast the next morning when Amarr cleared his throat delicately beside him. 

“Captain,” He began, fixing amethyst eyes on Jim’s face. “I wonder if you’d do me the honor of touring the gardens with me? As you may be aware, this facility houses our renowned statuary garden, known all over Syleese for containing sculptures by Syleese’s greatest artists. The figures are particularly pleasing to the eye in the light of the twin moons.”

Jim considered the invitation. Fresh air and a break from the music was appealing, and excusing himself from one person -- Amarr -- for a few minutes to himself would be easier. Departing the ball in Amarr’s company would require no special steps, as Amarr was considered Jim’s host for the evening. 

“You honor me with your offer, Vice-Chancellor, and I humbly accept.”

“Very good, very good,” Amarr replied, beaming. “I will guide you. You will not regret it!” He grasped Jim’s elbow in a proprietary manner, guiding him toward the exit. Jim allowed the escort with a bemused expression, watching as the crowd shifted as they walked, parting gracefully for them to pass.

***

As Amarr had said, the statuary was indeed lovely in the moonlight. Each figure represented an important person in Syleesian history, and each was carved from a different variety of the many crystals native to Syleese. Jim trailed his fingers over the smooth surface of a statue that glowed blood red in the moonlight. It was larger than all the rest, set on an ivory stone plinth in the center of the garden. The female Syleesian had been carved standing tall, with an upturned face and hands lifted to the sky. Her crystalline robe was rendered in such meticulous detail that Jim was nearly surprised to feel the smoothness of crystal beneath his fingers rather than silky fabric.

“Ah, Hirian the Peace-Bringer, our most treasured historical figure.”

“It is in her honor that you have the festival and this evening’s ball, correct?”

“Indeed yes,” Amarr replied. “It is thanks to her that our warring clans were finally united in the name of peace.”

“I’m honored to be here for such an important celebration,” Jim said. “We are very fortunate to be visiting Syleese at this time.”

“I’m so pleased you think so,” Amarr drew closer and Jim looked up in surprise as Amarr laid a hand on his arm. “I am also pleased to have spent this evening with you, Captain.”

“Yes, well, it has been quite an evening. You have honored me with your company.”

“The honor is all mine, Captain. In fact, I think you have honored me above all my people.” He slid his hand down Jim’s forearm until his long fingers were almost brushing the cabochon crystal just above Jim’s wrist.

Jim felt a strange twinge in his stomach as the Universal Translator relayed Amarr’s words to him. This was sounding rather...flirtatious, and was beginning to cast Amarr’s earlier solicitous behavior in a new light. He thought rapidly, cursing the briefing which had lacked all but the most cursory information on Syleesian courting rituals in what was now a glaring omission.

Before Jim could reply, Amarr spoke again.

“Captain -- No. James...” Amarr said slowly, as if the foreign name felt strange coming from his mouth. “Would you grant me the highest honor of all, this evening? The honor and pleasure of sharing my bed with you?”

Jim swallowed. Amarr was beautiful, with his slender limbs and amethyst eyes. His skin felt soft and warm against Jim’s wrist where his fingers rested just above the hammered metal armband containing Jim’s key crystal.

Ultimately, it did not matter how beautiful Amarr was or how long it had been since Jim had known the release of sharing pleasure with another being. Amarr was not Spock, and that was all that mattered. 

“Amarr, I…” Jim trailed off, feeling at a loss. “You honor me with your offer, but I cannot accept it. I’m sorry. If I’ve mistakenly given the wrong impression, I’m sorry for that as well.”

Amarr pulled back, his body stiffening and his eyes filling with confusion as the translated words reached his ears. 

“The wrong impression?” Amarr asked at last. “But, Captain, you arrived at the ball wearing my house colors, you accepted my offer of a romantic walk in the gardens...you took food from my plate. All through dinner I made advances toward you...advances you accepted! I remained by your side and took no other partner at the ball. I thought your people were well-informed on our culture?”

“So did we,” Jim said, shaking his head regretfully. “Obviously there were some omissions in our briefing, and I’m sure Ambassador Ng will have strong words for the team who prepared it.”

Amarr’s body relaxed slightly, but his expression remained tense.

“Errors do happen when two cultures meet,” Amarr conceded. “Nevertheless, Captain, I find myself confused. While I accept your answer, I do not understand it. I understood relations with members of the same sex to be accepted among your people? Have you no interest in males? If I am to return without your crystal in my pendant and become the laughingstock of the ball, I wish to at least know _why_.”

Jim hesitated. This was very personal territory they’d veered into, and while Jim had no shame over his sexuality, it was also not something he typically discussed with near-strangers. Still, a show of vulnerability and trust would perhaps ease the tension with Amarr and avert a diplomatic incident. 

“There is no prohibition against relations with beings of the same sex among my people,” Jim said at last. “I care more about who a person is than their sex when it comes to selecting a partner. The truth is that while you’re very attractive, I’m in love with someone and I desire only him.”

The tension drained from Amarr’s face and his lips curved slightly upwards. “You are in love with another? Is it one of your party?”

Jim grimaced. “I mean no disrespect, but I’d prefer not to discuss it further if you don’t mind.”

“Ah, it is a private matter, is it not?” Amarr asked thoughtfully, tapping his fingertips together. “Captain, I find myself most curious. I am a great lover of romance.” He looked over at Jim appraisingly. “Everyone in attendance tonight witnessed us leaving together, and combined with your earlier actions...let us say that it is expected for us to return with one another’s crystals. It will be a loss of face for me. It cannot be helped, but I propose an exchange. You allow me to ask a series of questions, and answer them honestly, thus satisfying my honor.”

Jim shifted slightly, considering. “And if I do this, no harm will be done to our negotiations?”

Amarr drew himself up. “Captain, I am a professional. I will not allow a personal misunderstanding to interfere with my work. Nevertheless, while your actions were unintentional, you are aware of the importance of appearances on Syleese.”

“I’m aware,” Jim said. “If participating in this exchange will allow us to part amicably, I’ll do it. Please know that I won’t provide any classified information or answer questions about anyone other than myself.”

“That is quite understandable, Captain. So, shall we begin?”

“Go ahead.” Jim suppressed a sigh.

“Well then, first I should like to know about the object of your affections. With whom are you in love?”

Jim barked out a short laugh. “You don’t start with the easy ones, do you? I said I wouldn’t answer questions about anyone but myself, but I will say that he’s an officer on my ship, and someone I respect and admire very much.”

“From the way you speak, I infer that you are not presently involved in a relationship with this man.”

“That’s correct.”

“And why is that?”

“As Captain, it would be inappropriate for me to initiate a relationship with one of my subordinates.” While this was true, it was not the entire reason, and Jim felt obliged by his promise to go on. “And he does not reciprocate my feelings.”

Amarr let out a soft exhalation that resembled a whistle. “You are certain that he does not? You are a very attractive and intelligent man, Captain. It seems strange that any being would not find you fascinating.”

“Fascinating.” Jim laughed. If Amarr only knew... “His people approach relationships somewhat differently, Amarr.” 

Amarr seemed to seize on his words, a calculating expression coming over his face. “His people, you say? Then your beloved is not human like yourself?”

“He isn’t,” Jim said, then went on firmly. “And that’s the last I’ll say about him.”

“Very well, very well. So, my poor Captain...you are in love with an officer on your ship who is not human. You believe he does not return your regard, and so you suffer in silence, pining away?”

“You make it sound like something out of a novel,” Jim said sourly, “but I suppose that’s the gist of it.”

“Ah, I do feel for you, Captain. Unrequited love makes for beautiful stories, but living it is another matter entirely, is it not?” Amarr clicked his teeth softly as he regarded Jim. His posture had relaxed entirely, and he looked friendlier than he had since the beginning of this embarrassing conversation. “I am satisfied with this, Captain. You have upheld your end of the exchange, and with that my honor is satisfied...even if my image is not. I would ask that you allow me to return to the ball first.”

Jim touched the fingertips of his joined hands to his forehead and Amarr returned the gesture. He walked away, lifting the hem of his sarong he stepped delicately from flagstone to flagstone until he disappeared from sight. 

Jim heaved a great sigh and stepped toward the statue of Hirian the Peace-Bringer, resting his folded arms on the stone plinth and dropping his head to his forearms. He felt wrung out, embarrassed, and vaguely annoyed. While he was grateful that a diplomatic crisis had been averted at the cost of only his own privacy -- an embarrassment he could bear, if not feel particularly pleased about -- it was still an unpleasant situation. Not to mention the talk that would inevitably accompany his return to the ballroom. He needed a few minutes to compose himself before rejoining the crowd. Turning to lean back against the plinth, Jim dropped his chin and studied the ground contemplatively. The ovoid stone pavers were arranged at precise distances from one another in a spiral pattern, and the tiny crystal chips embedded in the stone glittered in the moonlight. Hoping to calm his mind, Jim breathed deeply and began counting the stones. He’d just reached eight when a deep voice interrupted his reverie. 

“Jim.”

Jim’s face flushed with heat as his head jerked up. He would recognize that voice anywhere. How long had Spock been there? Had he heard any part of Jim’s conversation with Amarr?

“Spock,” he said, forcing himself to smile at his first officer. “Out touring the gardens? Some great history here.”

Spock regarded him solemnly. “Indeed, but that is not why I am here. I followed out of concern for you, and regrettably intruded upon a private moment between yourself and the Vice-Chancellor.”

Jim’s stomach turned, but he kept the pasted-on smile though his cheeks ached at the effort. “Your attention to duty is commendable as always, Mr. Spock.” Jim stepped forward, clapping a companionable hand on Spock’s shoulder as he attempted to pass by. “We’d best be getting back. Don’t want our hosts to think we’ve gone missing.”

A slightly cooler hand grasped Jim’s wrist, preventing Jim from moving past Spock. “Jim, I must...apologize.”

Jim took a deep breath and stopped. Spock retained his gentle grip on Jim’s wrist, seemingly with no intention of letting go.

Jim turned his face toward Spock and smiled harder. “You heard some pretty personal stuff, but there’s no one I trust more. I know you were only looking out for me and you won’t tell anyone.”

“You misunderstand me, Jim. It is true that I regret overhearing a private conversation, nor will I repeat it, but that is not my primary concern.”

“Oh? And what is your primary concern, Mr. Spock?”

“That I have not corrected your misapprehension, Jim.”

“And what misapprehension is that?”

There was a glint in Spock’s eyes as he spoke. “You mistakenly believe that your regard for me is not returned, Jim.”

Jim’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at Spock. His tall figure, clothed all in black, made him seem unreal, a man cut from the cloth of night and placed in the moonlit garden to tempt Jim. And tempted he was, as he stood there with his wrist in Spock’s gentle but firm grasp and so little space between them. 

“Spock,” Jim breathed out at last. “I didn’t know. You never said…”

Spock arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps that is where my error lies, that I did not believe it needed to be said. Surely you have noticed the liberties I have allowed you with my person? Liberties I have allowed no other?”

“I thought it was because we’re friends.” 

“Even so valued a friend as you would not be allowed so much, Jim.”

Jim stepped closer to Spock, his face melting into a genuine smile. “Would you permit more, then?”

“To you, Jim, I would permit all things.” 

“You’re certain,” Jim asked. “Absolutely certain. I’m your commanding officer and I can’t risk--”

“I am certain,” Spock interrupted. “It is a subject on which I have meditated at length.”

"Well, if you're certain, Mr. Spock...far be it from me to argue," Jim said, closing the final distance between them. Spock's hand slid slowly up Jim's arm to grip his bicep, a trail of heat following the movement. Jim tilted his head and leaned in, stopping just short of Spock's lips to murmur, "May I kiss you?"

"You may," Spock said quietly, inclining his head toward Jim's. "May I?"

"Of course," Jim’s heart pounded in his chest. He felt a tremor from Spock's body as they connected with lips and fingers, a breathy sigh that escaped Spock's iron control as they kissed slowly, fingertips touching and lips meeting and parting softly. It was like kissing no one else; Jim had never felt this spark, this shiver down his spine with any other being. He sighed into the kiss, aligning his body to Spock's and finding it deliciously solid. Jim could press his weight against Spock, give him all that he had, and Spock would push back just as he did now, meeting him equally. His cock stirred in his trousers and he sighed against Spock's mouth, curling his fingers around Spock's shoulder and nuzzling along his sharp jawline with kiss-swollen lips. 

Jim pulled his head back just enough to meet Spock's eyes, surprised by the intensity he saw there. "I feel like someone should pinch me."

Spock cocked his head, but did not release his hold on Jim. “Why would you wish that?”

Jim smiled ruefully. “Because I’ve wanted this for so long, and never thought it could happen. It almost seems like it can’t be real. A trick of the moonlight, the atmosphere in this place…”

“It is real,” Spock said quietly. “I have also yearned for this.”

The sound of Syleesian laughter, high and lyrical, spilled out into the garden. 

“I think we’re about to have company,” Jim said.

“It would be logical that we depart if we wish to have privacy.”

“Privacy? I’d like nothing more...but I don’t want to rush you into anything.”

“Jim, in the months since our experience on Vulcan, I have struggled to find a way to express my desire for a relationship with you. You need not concern yourself with rushing me. I am ready.”

“In that case, let’s get out of here. We’ll need to say our goodbyes to everyone, I suppose?”

“There is no need. As I followed you from the ballroom, I observed Ambassador Ng beginning the process of departing.”

Jim made as if to leave, but Spock stopped him once more. He extracted the crystal from his wristband and handed it to Jim solemnly, before holding out his hand in an expectant manner. 

“You want to exchange crystals?” Jim asked with amusement.

“It is only logical to do so, in order that we might avoid further propositions.”

Jim laughed. “But you don’t feel jealousy, right?”

The corner of Spock’s mouth twitched slightly. “I am not currently experiencing that emotion, nor will I if you wear my crystal, thus forestalling further offers.”

“As you wish, Spock,” Jim said with a grin. He accepted the proffered crystal and slotted it into the open pendant hanging against his chest and reached over to assist Spock in doing the same, taking a moment to lay his hand flat on Spock’s chest and press a chaste kiss to his lips as he did so.

“Let’s go to my room.”

***

They skirted the periphery of the ball as they departed, avoiding conversation while making their way to the forecourt where a skycar provided by the Diplomatic Circle awaited them. Jim wasn’t sure when he’d ever felt more anticipatory...or more nervous. The short flight across the city seemed to take forever as Jim sat knee-to-knee with Spock in the skycar’s plush interior. Only the presence of their Syleesian pilot forestalled him from seeking a foretaste of what he hoped to enjoy once they reached his quarters.

In the darkness, Jim lowered his hand to discreetly stroke Spock’s fingers and was pleased to feel Spock reciprocate. The stress of finding their way out of the event hall without incident had taken the edge off Jim’s excitement, but now he felt his cock twitching again merely from Spock’s closeness and the thrill of anticipation. The walk through the capitol building to the guest annex for diplomatic visitors was interminable with Spock’s shoulder a mere hair's breadth from Jim’s and yet still too far away for Jim’s taste. Every time their shoulders brushed, his nerve endings buzzed with anticipation.

When at last they’d reached the door to Jim’s quarters, he stepped aside as Spock passed Jim’s key crystal by the lock’s sensor. He gestured for Spock to precede him into the room, listening for the muted click of the door closing and locking once more. 

Jim lifted the pendant from his chest and pulled the chain over his head, setting it on the high stone dresser with a clatter. He stepped toward Spock, brushing his fingertips over the cool crystal key on Spock’s chest.

“I don’t suppose we’ll be needing these, will we?”

“I do not anticipate further need for them this evening,” Spock agreed, removing his pendant and placing it alongside Jim’s. 

Jim looked Spock up and down, taking in the lines of his gorgeous body and the intensity in his eyes. How he'd longed to be the focus of that heated gaze -- to suddenly have the freedom to touch and kiss Spock after desiring him for so long was a heady feeling. Jim boldly stepped into Spock's space, lifting his chin and pressing his lips to Spock's eagerly. Spock responded as if there had been no interruption in the garden, resting one hand on Jim's side to hold him in place. Jim smiled slightly against Spock's mouth. There was nowhere he'd rather be than right here with the man he loved. 

Jim teased Spock's lips with the tip of his tongue and Spock's mouth opened against his without the least hesitation. Jim's lips slid against Spock's as he sampled Spock's sweet, coppery taste and the roughness of his tongue. Jim found himself nearly dizzy with arousal, surrounded with Spock's spicy scent, the feel of his hard body and the taste of his mouth, the mouth Jim had dreamt of kissing, dreamt of having wrapped around his cock, dreamt of seeing open and gasping in pleasure. 

"I've wanted to kiss you like this for so long, Spock," he breathed out. 

"And I, you, Jim," Spock rumbled, a distinct, never-before-heard edge to his voice that thrilled Jim.

Jim lifted his hand to cup the nape of Spock's neck, his thumb brushing against the neatly trimmed hairs. Spock's body was strong and firm against him. Jim's cock swelled, straining against the front of his pants as Jim thrust against Spock, thrilling at the answering hardness he felt pressed against his own.

“I want to please you,” Jim said, drawing Spock’s free hand to his lips and pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against Spock’s fingers. He nipped gently at the pads of Spock’s fingers, gratified by the sharply indrawn breath and shudder that ran through Spock’s lean frame. “Am I doing this right?”

“I find it most pleasing,” Spock said, his voice like midnight as he lifted his hand from Jim’s side to his face, his fingers barely brushing Jim’s meld-points. Each brush of his cool fingers along Jim’s skin left a trail of sparks in its wake and left Jim feeling an intense need to connect with Spock. 

“I want to make love to you, Spock,” he said, looking deeply into Spock’s eyes, falling into the intensity of his gaze. 

“That is my wish, as well.”

“And we can? I mean, it’s all right for us to do?”

“Why would it not be? We are here, are we not?”

“Yes, but...Vulcans don’t have casual sex, right? I mean, outside of a bond?”

Spock stiffened in Jim’s arms and the fire in his eyes seemed to abate ever so slightly. “Is that what you wish? A casual encounter?” 

“No, I could never be casual with you Spock. Never. I want to be with you.” Jim said quickly, clasping Spock’s hand in his. “I only meant that I don’t want to ask you to do something you can’t do, outside of a bond.”

The tension drained from Spock’s body and Jim exhaled softly in relief as Spock spoke. “It is true that, traditionally, intimate relations take place only within a bond, but that is by custom, not necessity. So long as you are not seeking a casual encounter -- as you have now stated -- your desire to begin a serious, monogamous relationship is sufficient.”

“I can assure you that my desire is _more_ than sufficient to the task, Mr. Spock,” Jim teased.

He tilted his chin up to kiss Spock hungrily, hoping to communicate everything he felt but could not yet say through the meeting of lips and tongue. Perhaps Spock was just that adept at reading Jim after all their time together, perhaps it was his Vulcan touch telepathy, or perhaps it was some combination of the two, but it seemed that Spock understood, for he clasped Jim closer, running one elegant hand over Jim’s chest. 

“Upon reflection, I find it to be much more than sufficient,” Spock said huskily. “I find also that I wish for you to disrobe, Jim. I do not wish to see you clad in the Vice-Chancellor’s colors any longer.”

Jim’s lips curved teasingly. “That’s something we can agree on.”

He reached for the fastening on his tunic, cleverly located under the front placket of the garment so as not to mar the draping of the fabric. Jim unclasped it, opening the tunic and letting it fall from his shoulders to slide down to form a puddle of silky fabric at his feet. Beneath the tunic he wore a short-sleeved grey undershirt of the softest material he’d ever touched, and he coyly teased at the hem with his fingers, giving Spock a come-hither smile as he slowly pulled the shirt up to his armpits. Spock’s dark eyes fixed on Jim’s chest as he matched Jim’s teasing with his own hunger. Quickly, Jim whipped the shirt over his head and threw it to the floor, advancing on Spock with his hands working at his belt and pushing his pants down, kicking them off as he moved. 

Clad only in his briefs, he grinned at Spock. “It hardly seems fair that I’m the only one undressing, Spock.”

Spock lifted his gaze from a frank perusal of Jim’s body and arched an eyebrow. “You had only to ask, Jim.”

Spock’s hand went to his belt and Jim reached out to stop him. “No, let me. I want to do it.”

“As you wish.”

Jim’s hand traveled slowly up from Spock’s belt to his chest, pausing at the deep vee in the fabric. He slid his hand through Spock’s coarse chest hair, allowing the side of his thumb to drift up to Spock’s sternum and back down. Beneath his hand, Spock’s chest rose and fell evenly but for the tiniest hitch in his breath as Jim’s hand returned to the belt, unfastening it and pulling it smoothly from Spock’s waist. Unbound by the belt, the long black tunic Spock wore fell loosely around his body, and as Jim stepped close to lift it away he kissed Spock again, breaking off only to pass Spock’s tunic over his head. Jim thumbed open the clasp on Spock’s trousers and they slid down his lean hips easily, revealing a pair of black Starfleet-issue boxer briefs. The tip of Spock’s cock, wet and flushed green, was pinned against Spock’s belly by the waistband of his briefs and Jim knew at once that he wanted -- no, _needed_ \-- to taste it, to feel the weight of Spock’s cock heavy on his tongue.

Jim’s fingers brushed the waistband of Spock’s briefs and he paused to ask, “May I?”

Spock only inclined his head, watching intently as Jim went to his knees, pulling the briefs down as he moved. Spock’s cock bobbed free, jutting out from his body, angled just slightly upwards. Jim reached for it, stopping to fix his eyes on Spock’s for a moment, asking wordless permission that Spock granted by touching Jim’s hand and guiding it to his shaft. It was slick beneath Jim’s fingers, coated with some sort of slippery natural lubricant that eased Jim’s strokes as he pumped Spock’s cock slowly. He looked up to see Spock’s eyes half-lidded, and Jim rubbed his thumb over the double-ridges revealed by the retracted foreskin, taking note of the way Spock shivered as he did so. 

“I want to taste you, Spock. Will you let me?”

“I would deny you nothing…”

Jim touched his tongue to the tip, traced it over the double-ridges and licked back to where the base of Spock’s cock joined his body, nuzzling the coarse black curls there. He stroked below the base where testicles would be on a human male, circling his fingers around and holding it as he took the head into his mouth. Jim shifted forward, taking as much of Spock’s thick length into his mouth as he could before pulling back. Spock tasted bittersweet and Jim licked his lips, relishing the flavor as he looked up at Spock before taking his cock in his mouth again. He licked and sucked lovingly, tenderly, taking his time and noting every shudder, every strangled groan until he settled into a rhythm that brought Spock’s hips thrusting forward with every stroke of Jim’s lips. 

Spock’s fingers tangled in Jim’s hair as short, harsh breaths escaped his lips every time the tip of his cock touched the back of Jim’s throat. Jim ground the heel of his free hand into his own throbbing erection, determined not to come untouched from the mere pleasure of sucking Spock, arousing as it was. 

Spock used his greater strength so carefully, maintaining his gentle grip on Jim’s hair as he fucked into Jim’s mouth and Jim let him, easing back onto his heels and using his hands to stroke Spock’s cock and guide it past his lips. Jim breathed through his nose, ignoring the ache in his jaw as he tuned into Spock and his pleasure --Spock’s eyes nearly closed, his lips parted as he gasped, his cheeks flushed green and his small, coppery nipples hard. His muted groans and harsh breaths were more enticing to Jim than any sound he’d ever heard.

“Jim,” Spock said hoarsely. “Jim, I am going to…” 

Jim hummed his encouragement against Spock’s skin, grasping Spock’s hip and holding it hard, urging him forward. Spock’s hips stuttered and he let out a long, low groan, pushing his cock into Jim’s mouth as he came, his semen seeping from the corners of Jim’s lips and down his chin. 

Jim swallowed reflexively, pulling off Spock’s softening cock with a soft pop and licking his lips. Spock’s usual straight posture was off-center as he leaned slightly to the side with the softest expression Jim could remember seeing. Jim got to his feet and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before guiding Spock to lie on the bed and settling beside him, one hand on his chest, gently ruffling Spock’s chest hair. 

Spock let out an odd sort of gasp-snort as Jim’s fingers skittered over his ribs and Jim’s mouth quirked in amusement.

“How did that feel?” Jim asked at length.

“To what do you refer,” Spock asked, looking at Jim with heavy eyes and a distinctly wry twist of his lips. “The fellatio, or your effort to elicit a humorous response by ‘tickling’ me?”

Jim grinned. “If you still have the energy for sass, obviously I haven’t pleasured you enough.”

“In that case,” Spock said gravely, “I shall have to take you to task.”

“I think I’ll be doing the taking, if you don’t mind,” Jim said with a devilish grin, leaning down to capture Spock’s lips in a kiss. He shifted until he was draped over Spock, careful to avoid putting pressure on Spock’s still-flaccid cock. 

Spock responded eagerly, cupping Jim’s cheek with one hand as he slid his other hand to the small of Jim’s back. Spock’s furred thigh was coarse against Jim’s cock as he moved, rutting against the crease where Spock’s leg joined his body. 

Jim’s cock was hot and eager, but he took his time, skirting around Spock’s which had begun to twitch in interest but remained only half-hard. Jim explored the soft skin between Spock’s thighs with curious fingers as he nuzzled into Spock’s throat to nip and kiss. He attuned himself to every shift of Spock’s muscles, every indrawn breath -- the muted growl in Spock’s throat as he stroked the skin just behind the root of Spock’s cock down to his cleft. 

He pulled back from Spock’s neck and shifted his body lower, his cock dragging against the soft bed linens as he settled between Spock’s spread thighs. “Still sensitive here?” he asked, ghosting his fingertips over the tip of Spock’s cock. “Can I touch?”

Spock spread his thighs further. “Please do.”

Jim grinned, tracing the slick skin on Spock’s cock to gather the lubricant on his fingers. He stroked Spock until his fingers were slippery, then reached down to trace Spock’s hole gently, sliding his fingers carefully over the wrinkled skin. 

“I’ve got lube, but is this okay for now?” 

“My muscle control is such that I will not require excessive preparation,” Spock panted.

“It’s as much for me as it is for you,” Jim replied. “I’d really like to eat you out, but I don’t know how much longer I can stand to wait.”

“I do not wish to wait. You may... ‘eat me out’ next time.”

“Deal.” Jim got up from the bed, his cock bobbing as he walked. He knelt in front of his bag, conscious of Spock’s heated gaze as he rifled through it for the lubricant he’d packed. Jim returned to the bed and applied a generous dollop of the cool gel to his fingers before settling beside Spock once more. He resumed caressing Spock’s buttocks and cleft, rubbing the rim of his hole as he began to work his finger in. As Spock had promised, the muscles yielded easily as he slid his index finger in to the knuckle, working it in and out gently. Spock’s body was taut, his cock straining up, precome dripping from the slit and natural lubricant running in trails down the shaft into the coarse curls at the base.

“You’re gorgeous like this, Spock,” Jim murmured. He crooked his finger before pulling it out to sit back on his heels, applying lube to his own cock. “I need you now. Will you let me have you?”

Spock gazed at Jim intently. His eyes were burning, pupils dilated and fixed on Jim. His green-tinged flush rode high across his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Jim,” he said huskily.

Jim hooked his arms under Spock’s knees and pulled gently. Spock obliged, letting Jim tilt his hips up to rest his buttocks on Jim’s thighs as Jim lined the tip of his cock up with Spock’s hole. Jim looked up at Spock’s face again, locking eyes with him as he pressed forward. The head of his cock breached the ring of muscle more easily than Jim had expected and he pushed forward, watching Spock’s face carefully. Spock frowned slightly in concentration, and Jim forced himself to stop. Spock was so tight all around him and he wanted nothing more than to keep pushing in until he was seated to the hilt.

“Spock, are you okay? Do you need me to wait?” Jim panted out, straining to remain still.

“Do not stop, Jim,” Spock managed. 

Sweat beaded Jim’s brow and his palms slid against Spock’s legs as he slowly thrust deeper until he was fully sheathed. He leaned down to kiss Spock again, brushing his fingers gently against Spock’s softened erection, stroking it back to life as he waited for Spock’s body to adjust to the intrusion. 

“Jim,” Spock said at last. “I need you to move now.”

Jim settled between Spock’s legs, withdrawing before pushing back in slowly. Spock hissed between his teeth as Jim licked and sucked at his neck, fisting Spock’s cock in slow upward strokes.

“We’ve got all night, Spock,” he whispered against Spock’s skin. “You’re so tight…” Jim groaned. “So tight. God, I just want to fuck you all night.”

Jim continued fucking Spock slowly, sinking into his body over and over again until he knew nothing but the heat and tightness around his cock and the burning of Spock’s eyes. He was fucking Spock, but Spock was devouring him, pulling him in with every thrust. Arousal coiled low in his belly and heat spread through his body. A knot of tension settled at the base of his spine as his balls drew tight and he kept seeking the release that could only be found in his lover’s body. 

Spock gripped him firmly, and Jim knew he’d likely have fingertip bruises in his skin but he didn’t care, he didn’t know anything but Spock’s heat and Spock’s breath and the hoarse little grunts Spock let out when Jim bottomed out inside him. Jim thrust faster, falling into a rhythm that rushed him toward orgasm as surely as a fast-flowing river on its way to a waterfall. Spock clasped Jim closer, finding Jim’s meldpoints with shaking fingers and Jim leaned into the touch, groaning out a quick assent.

And then he was Jim, and not Jim, because he was Spock, too. Jim’s consciousness blended with Spock’s and he was thrusting in, feeling Spock’s muscles grasping his cock, and he was breached with jolts of sensation every time his cock brushed past that tender spot inside. His skin felt too tight and his cock felt too tense, and then heat surged up from his testicles and he climaxed in an intense burst of pleasure, hot and knife-sharp. His orgasm triggered Spock’s, and they came together overwhelmed with sensation and emotion so powerful Jim could hardly process it as he felt something click into place between them, a sense of knowing one another utterly, of existing not as two separate beings, but one soul in two bodies. 

_T'hy'la_... echoed in his mind, and it was in Spock’s voice, but also in Jim’s. The word was unknown to Jim, and yet in his heart he knew its meaning at once as he succumbed to the intensity of Spock’s powerful emotions and responded with all he had to give, all of himself, everything he had ever been and ever would be. It was like staring into the heart of the sun, fiercely bright and hot, and then everything went dark. 

It could have been an eternity or a moment -- Jim was too disoriented to know which -- but when he came to awareness again he was resting in Spock’s arms beneath the luxurious bed covers. He let out a jaw-cracking yawn and curled into Spock’s body, seeking greater contact between them. 

“Am I going to black out every time we make love?”

Spock’s voice rumbled through his chest as he answered thoughtfully. “I do not believe so. I theorize that the intensity of emotion that accompanied our first encounter was overwhelming to your system, but in the future you will become accustomed to it. As well, I…” And Spock trailed off, before resuming in a subdued tone of voice… “I was unprepared for the intensity of emotion you yourself added to the meld. I had...hoped that your feelings matched my own, but I did not know until I experienced them for myself. For that reason, my control over the meld was compromised. It will not happen again.”

Jim tilted his head up to catch Spock’s gaze. “I’m not upset, Spock. I don’t even have a headache. I feel great, actually. Never felt better. Honestly, I’d take passing out every time if I got to experience that with you on a regular basis for, oh, the rest of our lives?”

Spock’s eyes were warm and soft, and the corners of his mouth lifted. “If it pleases you, I wish the same...without the unconsciousness, as it is unnecessary to experience the pleasure and...concerned me.”

“Well, if you insist,” Jim teased. “Mind-blowing orgasms for the rest of my life sound pretty good, I have to say. And being with you, of course.” Jim ran a hand down Spock’s side to rest over his heart. “It almost seems superfluous to say this after what we just experienced, but indulge my humanity and let me tell you that I love you, Spock. I want you to bond us.”

“And I, you.” Spock said quietly, pausing to place a hand over Jim’s. “I should point out, however, that while it pleases me that you wish to bond in the way of my people, Vulcans mate for life. It is not something which should be decided in what might be described as the heat of the moment.”

“I hardly think it’s the heat of the moment, Spock. That meld...I’m not crazy, am I? We really are this… _t'hy'la_?”

Spock shifted, his feet brushing against Jim’s as he moved. “Yes, we are _t'hy'la_.”

“And that’s not something that will change, right? It’s permanent.” 

“That is also true.”

“Then why wait? I’m ready.”

“As am I, beloved.” Spock said gently. “But you are a member of a psi-null species. Evidence suggests you may require a brief time to become accustomed to the telepathic bond and that is a distraction we cannot risk during a critical mission.”

Jim sighed. “You’re right, of course. I just feel like I’ve discovered a piece of me I never knew was missing, and the thought of going without it any longer…”

Spock touched the tips of his fingers to Jim’s. “I know your feelings, Jim. Since I came to realize we are _t’hy’la_ , I have ached to claim you as my own. When we have completed our mission on Syleese, if you still wish to bond I will do so.”

Jim turned his face into Spock’s neck, breathing in his spicy scent and pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses to his throat. “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Spock.”

“See that you do,” Spock said, tilting Jim’s chin up to kiss him tenderly. “And now I wish to continue my study of what pleases you.” Spock turned his body, gently pressing Jim into the soft mattress and twining their fingers as he stroked down Jim’s side with his free hand. 

“Mmm, study all you like. I’m all yours,” Jim said contentedly.

“As I am yours.”

_fin_

**Epilogue**  
 **One year later…**

Jim stood on the balcony of his suite at Syleese’s newest and most luxurious hotel. As he had predicted, once they’d opened for tourism Syleese had become a highly coveted destination, made more so by the fact that only so many tourists could visit at any given time. The process to obtain a travel permit was lengthy, including a mandatory briefing on Syleesian culture and etiquette, but this seemed to only add to the planet’s cachet and make it seem an incredibly exclusive -- as well as gorgeous -- vacation spot. 

Even a Starfleet captain couldn’t bypass the bureaucracy, but he and Spock had been personally invited by Amarr. The Vice-Chancellor had been delighted to realize that Jim and Spock had come together during their time on Syleese. Though Spock was too private to reveal their new relationship, Jim had apparently had a quiet joy about him Amarr had picked up on immediately. Once diplomatic negotiations had been completed, Jim had received flowery congratulations from Amarr along with a promise to invite Jim and his love back to Syleese.

The clean, slightly metallic scent of Syleese’s largest ocean tickled Jim’s nose as a breeze lifted his hair, and he gazed down at the rolling waves, emerald green and clear as glass until they crashed on the silvery beach in a cascade of foam. While beautiful, the ocean was much too cold for humans (or Vulcans) to enjoy in any way other than aesthetically, but Jim had to admit it made for a pleasing view...though it paled in comparison to the sight of Spock lying prone on their bed, tangled in the sheets and a soft, relaxed expression on his face. 

As Jim thought of Spock, warmth and love flowed through their bond. He felt Spock’s solid presence at his back, one strong arm coming around his chest with Spock’s hand settling on Jim’s shoulder. Jim gently placed his hand over Spock’s, turning his head to meet Spock’s lips with his own. 

“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Spock replied, his eyes never leaving Jim.

“We’ve come full circle,” Jim mused. “It feels right that we’ve come here for our honeymoon. Thanks for indulging me in this human tradition.”

“It pleases me to do so, Jim,” Spock said quietly, moving to stand beside him, his hands on the railing and his shoulder brushing Jim’s. “It is a most appropriate destination to celebrate our joining in the human tradition.”

“That’s true. If it weren’t for the whole Amarr debacle, we might still be fumbling around pining after each other.”

Spock lifted one eyebrow. “Jim, Vulcans do not _pine_.”

Jim chuckled. “You forget, Mr. Spock, I know your mind as intimately as I do your body. You were definitely pining.”

“That is one fact I shall never forget, Jim,” Spock said seriously, sliding his hand down the railing to brush the first two fingers against Jim’s in the _ozh’esta_. 

“Neither will I,” Jim said, his lips quirking. “Not that I could.” 

Jim leaned against Spock, tilting his head for a kiss. As their lips moved together slowly, Jim savored the feel and taste of Spock’s mouth against his own. Every kiss held the wonder and excitement of the first, sweetened by the knowledge of his bondmate’s body and presence in his mind. They kissed slowly, languorously, before pulling away with matching smiles and turning back to the view before them.

They stood in companionable silence, looking out over the glittering landscape with love in their hearts.


End file.
